


Suzaku no Tabi

by blackash26



Category: Code Geass, Kino no Tabi | Kino's Journey - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, By which I mean Lancelot is a talking motorcycle, Gen, Lancelot is a motorrad, Philosophy, Suzaku and Lancelot are going on a journey, bunny adopted from cg_adopt_bunny on LJ, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackash26/pseuds/blackash26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destination is a state of mind. Suzaku is a traveler. Sitting astride the Lancelot, an internal combustion companion, Suzaku is ready to embark on a journey unlike any other. Drift along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suzaku no Tabi

**Author's Note:**

> This lovely bunny was adopted from shirogiku at cg_adopt_bunny on LJ. This fic is a fusion of Code Geass and Kino no Tabi, an amazing anime that everyone should see; however knowledge of Kino no Tabi is not necessary in order to understand and enjoy this fic.
> 
> Unfortunately my muse for this fic seems to have fizzled but I wanted to post this first chapter which can stand alone quite nicely. I might come back to this eventually, it’s hard to say.
> 
> Warning: May contain violence, various other disturbing themes and in extreme cases may cause the reader to stop and think. Please be mature.

**Prologue: Beginner’s Luck**

 

* * *

 

_The world…is not beautiful_

 

* * *

 

A lone figure tore across the sandy desert, kicking up sand in every direction. This, along with the slowly building sandstorm, obscured the impractical white frame and gold detailing of the _motorrad_ _as well as the identity of the machine’s lone rider. The rider wore a thick dust colored overcoat, heavy gloves, and goggles, wisely covering every inch of his skin from the biting desert winds._

 

Finally, after hours or days riding through a seemingly endless desert, the rider came to a halt.

 

The rider cautiously dismounted, only barely remembering to use the _motorrad_ ’s kickstand to keep the machine upright at the last moment.

 

Was it a mirage? The rider wondered if the burning sun had finally gotten him. If soon the birds would be picking at his water-starved flesh while he lay beside his upturned _motorrad_ and everything would be over before it even began.

 

But no.

 

There was something there.

 

There was.

 

He stumbled toward the mirage, longing to run, but barely managing to walk with muscles cramped and aching from countless hours astride his _motorrad_. He panted for air as he ran, his face mask slipping in his excitement.

 

This wasn’t a hallucination.

 

He began digging desperately, the sand sliding through his fingers like a cruel parody of water.

 

“This is no way to begin a journey,” a voice sternly interrupted from somewhere behind him.

 

The rider froze where he was. Silent. Listening.

 

“Why are we doing this?” the voice was cajoling now. “If we turn back now, we might still survive. Why don’t we go back to the Master?”

 

The rider’s hands tensed into fists, uselessly gripping the sand beneath him as he gasped for breath in the stifling heat.

 

“It’ll be no fault of mine if you dry up out here, Suzaku,” the voice reprimanded exasperatedly. “I wonder what will happen to me after the vultures are done picking your shriveled corpse clean? I foresee myself buried under millions of grains of sand right where I sit with only your bleached white bones for company. You may have a death wish, but I–”

 

“Enough!” Suzaku cried out, cutting off the maddening flow of words.

 

There was silence.

 

* * *

 

A half hour later Suzaku had managed a makeshift camp. He collapsed almost immediately after he finished, only staying upright long enough to strip off his overcoat, blue undercoat, vest, gloves, goggles and hat. He lay on his back with his arms crossed behind his head in a surprisingly comfortable imitation of a pillow and savored the respite from the burning white heat of the sun.

 

He dozed, drifting aimlessly on the border between sleep and wakefulness.

 

He felt absolutely nothing and did not mind the absence.

 

“Do you remember God?” the voice spoke to him again, pulling him firmly into wakefulness. Green eyes stared blankly up at the roof of the improvised shelter.

 

“This predicament is the god of travelers showing you that you are not meant to travel.”

 

“Maybe so,” Suzaku whispered, almost to himself.

 

“So what you gonna do about it?” the voice challenged.

 

Suzaku held up a hand, but did not turn to face the voice.

 

“Not now,” he said tiredly.

 

“Well, I know you never change your mind once you have it made up, but it’s decision time, kiddo. You must decide if we will return to the master….or, continue running headlong into our inevitable entombment beneath the endless shifting sands of this forsaken country.”

 

“I don’t like those choices,” Suzaku said lethargically, his eyes half open as he pointedly refused to rise to the voice’s baiting.

 

“Suzaku,” the voice chided. “The most important asset to a traveler is _decisiveness_. This holds true for both rookie and veteran. Am I wrong?”

 

Emerald green eyes widened in surprise as he felt a shift in the air. Completely ignoring the question that lingered heavy across the camp, he leapt to his feet and climbed out of the tent.

 

“Suzaku?”

 

“Lancelot.” The name was a tired sigh dragged out of the teen’s mouth and carried off in a gust of wind.

 

“What’s wrong?” Lancelot asked worriedly.

 

Suzaku glanced over his shoulder at the white and gold _motorrad_ _before turning his attention to the sky._

_“A traveler’s most important asset is that which helps you get back up after a struggle has left you so close to the end,” the teen said pensively._

_“What’s that?” The_ _motorrad_ _asked._

_Suzaku watched the rolling black clouds bubbling up over the horizon with calm green eyes._

_“I know it, as luck,” he said and smiled faintly as the first drop of rain fell on his upturned face._

 

* * *

 

**The Land of Visible Pain**

 

* * *

 

_\- I See You. -_

 

* * *

 

 

A bird screeched overhead as it flew; it’s long delicate wings propelling it with ease through the endless blue sky.

 

Bellow, a traveler and his _motorrad_ _could only envy the freedom of the winged creature, stuck as they were at the end of a thin strip of dirt road._

_“I thought something like this would happen,” Lancelot complained over the cries of the bird and the roar of the engine._

_“Like what would happen?” Suzaku asked, his eyes carefully surveying their surroundings._

_“That we would be tricked by a counterfeit map dealer. He said it was mapped just a month ago,” the amount of scorn in the machine’s disembodied voice was impressive. “We can barely see much less get to the next country over. This cliff isn’t even on the map!”_

_Suzaku glanced over at the gaping canyon that stretched between their bit of road and the open road beginning just at the edge of the opposite cliff. He fiddled with his goggles a moment before pulling them down around his neck as he reexamined the map._

_“The map shows that there’s a road that we can take right here,” the teen said with a frown._

_“_ _Now_ _do you see why I said we got swindled?” Lancelot demanded huffily. “You’re too trusting sometimes.”_

_Suzaku patted the_ _motorrad_ _’s side a little harder than necessary. “The map was right up until this point,” he argued. The teen folded up the map and tucked it back into the inner pocket of his overcoat. From another pocket he withdrew a retractable monocular bought from a rather advanced country a few months back. He expanded the device and fiddled with the dials until the land across the canyon swam into focus. At first he could only see more lush green forests and blue mountains rising up over the horizon, but then he caught sight of something else._

_“Hold on!” he exclaimed in surprise as he centered the view. “There it is! The country’s right there. The map_ _is_ _right!”_

_And it was. In the distance he could see tiny red roofed buildings tucked between the rolling green hills at the base of the mountains._

_“It looks like that bird up there is thinking of having you for lunch,” Lancelot snarked._

_Only then did Suzaku hear the cawing of the graceful bird silhouetted against the bright blue expanse of sky. “Speaking of lunch, I could go for a bite,” the teen said mildly even as his eyes followed the flight of the wildfowl. “Lancelot,” he said suddenly after a moment of silence. “Haven’t you ever felt jealous of birds?”_

_“Everyone and everything has a certain place in life, Suzaku._ _Motorrads_ _and people were not made to travel through the air.” Lancelot was always practical about such questions._

_Suzaku barely heard the conciliatory response; he was no longer sitting at the edge of a cliff that shouldn’t be a cliff. He was no longer astride his loyal_ _motorrad_ _surrounded by miles upon miles of forest. He was somewhere else, lost in memories of the past._

_“Someone once told me,” Suzaku whispered, green eyes still fixed unseeing on the dark outline of the winged creature in the sky, “that watching the birds made them want to go on a journey.”_

_“Who said that?” Lancelot asked._

_Flashes of memory skipped through his mind. A thick, dust colored overcoat, a pointed chin, long dark hair flowing over strong shoulders, a mouth that moved, yet said nothing, the words long lost to the hungry jaws of time. But the recollections were little more than bits and pieces, hazy fragments of things best forgotten._

 

Suzaku lowered his head and closed his eyes.

 

“I forget.”

 

“So… _bird_ watching makes you want to continue your journey,” Lancelot said.

 

Suzaku sighed inaudibly and pushed the past away. “I don’t know,” he said flippantly, focusing firmly on the present. “Right now I’m more focused on getting lunch.”

 

“Ah! And how will you do that? Are you planning on building a bridge or something?” the _motorrad_ _was mocking him, but they’d been together for too long for him not to notice the underlying note of concern in his companion’s voice._

 

“I’m not the kind of traveler who goes around plotting paths where they don’t already exist, Lancelot,” he said. His tone was playful, but that did little to hide the fact that the words were an assurance, for himself as well as for Lancelot. Life seemed intent on teaching Suzaku this particular lesson. He liked to think he had finally managed to learn it.

 

“That’s good news. I was getting a little worried,” Lancelot teased.

 

They’d been together long enough, however, that Suzaku was able to understand that Lancelot didn’t believe him. Not entirely. The teen didn’t like that his own _motorrad_ _couldn’t trust him, but Lancelot was_ not necessarily wrong in being skeptical. He didn’t trust himself much either, sometimes.

 

Suzaku would not stop journeying, though. Whatever else he had done or would do, whatever failures and mistakes he had made, he would not renege on the one promise he could still uphold…

 

His stomach growled noisily.

 

He sighed, brushed off his strange mood, put away his monocular and resettled himself on Lancelot’s back. He chanced one last glance at the sky, but the bird was gone, probably having caught its own lunch.

 

Suzaku started the ignition and turned Lancelot around.

 

They would just have to find another way.

 

* * *

 

The Lancelot roared down the dirt road, both rider and _motorrad_ enjoying the freedom of hard ground rushing beneath them and blue sky hanging clear and unchanging above.

 

Suzaku was jerked out of his pleasant reverie by a horrible cracking sound somewhere up ahead. Even as he braked, he automatically turned Lancelot sideways, allowing the pair to screech to a sudden, but safe stop.

 

He was once again thankful for his lightening quick reflexes as he watched the forest only a few meters in front of him shudder violently and collapse, the ground crumbling into nothing with impossible speed.

 

Suzaku stared, green eyes wide open and jaw agape as the dust cloud caused by the disturbance finally settled, revealing that the stretch of forest before him had been transformed. In the forest’s place was a gaping gorge with only a slim natural bridge connecting the two lips of the canyon.

 

“And you said I was too trusting,” Suzaku said as the rumbling of the earth began to fade. Only the still settling dust cloud belied the fact that there hadn’t always been a chasm here.

 

“You _are_ too trusting,” Lancelot said.

 

“Lancelot.” Suzaku rolled his eyes.

 

The _motorrad_ _sighed. “What, you think your naïve faith in humanity was well founded for once? What makes you say that?”_

 

The teen thumped the side of the _motorrad_ _._ “Well,” he said looking down at his companion, “it’s because this map, it _was_ correct a month ago.”

 

The _motorrad_ _considered this. Suzaku knew the machine was just as awed by the sudden restructuring of the land as he was. In all their travels they had never seen anything quite like it._

“So the land is constantly changing, from moment to moment,” Lancelot said after awhile, sounding more humbled than the teen would have thought possible. “…but if that’s the case, Suzaku, I guess, there would be no more need for journeys. You could sit back and enjoy the world as it moves around you, instead of you moving around it…”

 

Suzaku patted the Lancelot again, but he was gentler this time. The _motorrad_ _rarely wandered into such philosophical territory. “Isn’t your purpose in life as a_ _motorrad_ _driving, just as my purpose in life is to continue traveling?”_

_Besides, even if the world was constantly changing all around, there would still be value in taking a journey. He had to believe that. It was all he had._

_He glanced up at the empty sky and adjusted his goggles. “Let’s go,” he said, resettling himself on his_ _motorrad_ _._

_“What are we going to do?” Lancelot asked, still a little thoughtful._

_“Well,” the teen said, looking over the gorge, “there’s this road.”_

_“If you can call it that,” the machine said scornfully._

_Suzaku laughed._

* * *

 

Fortunately, the scenery did not perform another sudden transform around the traveling duo and within an hour the pair pulled up to the gates of a beautiful stone city.

 

Suzaku dismounted and spared the shuttered drawbridge a thoughtful glance, before turning to the small stone gatehouse beside the road. His eyes took in the circular building, automatically checking for threats even as he inspected the inscription above the door. ‘National Entry Inspection Center,’ he read silently.

 

“This seems to be the place,” he said for Lancelot’s benefit. If he was going to be honest, this place made him nervous. It looked abandoned, and yet everything was in perfect condition.

 

His stomach chose that moment to growl audibly, reminding him of his priorities easily enough.

 

Cautious because he knew better than to let his guard down, but very aware that the guard house seemed deserted, Suzaku warily opened the gatehouse door.

 

The room was empty. There was a very fine layer of dust on the floor, but there were no footprints marring the even film. No one had entered this place since that last time it had been cleaned. Still, he had to be sure.

 

“Hello?” he called out.

 

His voice echoed strangely in the empty space. There was no response. He didn’t really expect one.

 

In the center of the room, two bizarre machines stood upright. They looked similar to some of the automatic computation devices he had seen in a few of the more advanced lands he and Lancelot had visited. The machines seemed to have keyboards for inputting information…but lacked screens. Instead, there was a glass case over the top of each device which protected an odd cylindrical tube that was mounted horizontally on top of the rest of the machine.

 

Baffled and curious, the teen stepped closer to the first machine, wanting to get a closer look.

 

The floor collapsed a little beneath his feet and Suzaku’s hand was halfway to his Persuader before he heard the whirring of a motor and realized that he’d simply turned on the machine by accident.

 

He watched intently as a small hand clicked into place against the cylindrical tube and began sliding back and forth along the edge of the cylinder, reminding the teen of both the odd _typowriter_ that one professor had been raving about or the outlawed but beautiful self-playing _pianola_ he’d seen in the Land of Bards.

 

“Welcome traveler,” the machine said in a painfully mechanized voice, “national entry inspection is about to commence, please answer the following questions.”

 

A small screen popped up out of a compartment above the keyboard.

 

More bemused than cautious at this point, Suzaku leaned closer and read off the instructions for Lancelot’s benefit:

 

“Please input how many are in your party and how long you will be staying here.”

 

He blinked. Well, that wasn’t very difficult.

 

He cracked his fingers in anticipation and then set to entering his response, awkwardly hitting one key at a time with either of his pointer fingers. “O. N. E. hu-man” he muttered to himself.

 

“Don’t forget me!” Lancelot chirped from outside.

 

Suzaku rolled his eyes and playfully held up a hand for silence, even though he wasn’t sure Lancelot could see him very well.

 

“Don’t distract me,” he called out, before turning back to the device. He frowned in careful concentration as he continued his task. “…and O. N. E. Lan-ce-lot, _mo-torr-ad,_ stay-ing three days. There!” He finished with a flourish.

 

“Thank you,” the machine chirped before retracted the screen and shutting down.

 

Suzaku blinked in confusion, but when nothing more happened, he simply shrugged and left.

 

“I guess that was the inspection…” he said doubtfully as he closed the gate house door behind him.

 

“What a useful machine,” Lancelot said admiringly.

 

Suzaku frowned. “Yeah, but where are the people?”

 

The draw bridge lowered automatically with a screech of metal on metal, nearly drowning out the _motorrad’s_ _response. “Maybe there aren’t any…Perhaps it’s an entire country without human life.”_

 

“We’ve never been to a place like that before,” Suzaku said, trying to see the heart of the country through the darkness of the entrance tunnel.

 

“How could such a place exist?” Lancelot wondered.

 

Suzaku considered the question for a moment. He honestly wasn’t sure he had an answer the _motorrad_ _would like. “_ Let’s not jump to conclusions,” the teen said, getting back onto Lancelot’s back. “Someone had to build these machines.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they’re still here or even still alive. What if this place is haunted?” The _motorrad_ _whispered the last question._

 

“Calm down, Lancelot,” Suzaku said as he turned on the ignition. He laughed a little. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

 

“I’m not afraid!” the _motorrad_ _snapped defensively. “I’m just trying to look out for your easily breakable human shell. Where would I be without my rider?”_

The teen smiled fondly. “I’m not going anywhere, Lancelot. Don’t worry.”

 

“Who says I’m worried?” the machine demanded.

 

Suzaku rolled his eyes and the pair motored across the draw bridge without another word.

 

On the other side of the bridge they were greeted by an unwieldy, clanking machine that stumbled to greet them across the otherwise empty courtyard. Suzaku and Lancelot pulled up sharply just in front of the strange machine. It had nearly a half dozen arms, each covered with colorful signs and swinging metal contraptions that seemed designed only to make noise. Topping off the strangeness of the machine, there was a small red balloon attached to the very top of the gangling thing. Suzaku had never seen anything like it.

 

“Welcome Traveler,” a mechanical voice greeted from somewhere inside the odd device “I have information!”

 

Suzaku watched as folded bit of paper issued from a slit in the center of the machine.

 

“Take one please!” the machine chirped.

 

The teen pulled off his goggles and blinked once in bemusement before reaching out and plucking the paper from its dispenser.

 

“What’s that?” Lancelot asked curiously.

 

“Looks like…a guide book,”Suzaku answered slowly as he examined the cover of the pamphlet.

 

“Thank you!” the sign-laden machine chirped. “Enjoy your stay!” With that the gangling machine lurched away, leaving behind nothing more than the paper in Suszaku’s hands and the echo of its attention-grabbing bells in its wake.

 

The green eyed teen barely noticed the device’s departure. “Thanks,” he muttered distractedly as he began flipping through the brochure. “And now to find…food!” he said turning to the section of the booklet marked ‘Restaurants,’ happy that he would finally be able appease his ravenous stomach.

 

* * *

 

Having chosen a destination, the pair set off into the heart of the city.

 

“This country certainly is hospitable,” Lancelot noted over the thrum of the engine.

 

Suzaku said nothing. Because while it was certainly true that the country had been far more welcoming than many they had visited and while the streets and buildings were beautiful and well-kept, there were absolutely no people to be found.

 

The only sign of life in this strange land was the occasional machine cleaning the street or doing repairs.

 

That was it.

 

Suzaku found it unsettling.

 

* * *

 

Suzaku left Lancelot outside the restaurant. Before he entered, he removed his dust colored overcoat and left it draped over the _motorrad_ _. It was a silent signal they had established years ago, before they’d even begun their journey together. It meant that even though they were parting for a moment, Suzaku would return._

_The restaurant was empty. There was not a spot of dust amidst the neat layout of tables and chairs, but the place felt no less abandoned for the cleanliness._ There had obviously not been a human in this room for quite a long time.

 

A machine showed him to his seat and took his order. Somewhere, he was sure, another machine or machines made his food and still another device delivered his food.

 

It was unnerving. Suzaku had seen and experienced a lot during his travels, but he had never been to a place quite like this before.

 

Luckily, the teen was too focused on his meal to be too bothered by the strangeness of it all.

 

“Ah, I’m stuffed,” he said, leaning back in his seat and resting his hands contentedly on his bloated belly. The food was truly delicious.

 

“All done? Did you enjoy your meal?” a small, red machine on wheels asked as it rolled smoothly to a stop beside Suzaku’s table.

 

“Mmm…” Suzaku said, more than a little lost in the base pleasure of feeling properly full first time in weeks. “It was excellent. Thank you,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the door, his blue coat swishing around his knees in time with his movements.

 

“Thank you, please come again,” the machine chirped.

 

Suzaku glanced over his shoulder and watched as the top of the machine opened up and several arms sprouted from the small brass tubes lining one side of the machine. With great dexterity, the mechanical hands scooped up the dirty dishes and placed them inside the machine’s open compartment. Upon finishing its task, the device retracted its arms, closed its top and glided away.

 

He smiled faintly at the sight, marveling at the craftsmanship of this country’s machinery, but couldn’t quite shake his sense of concern at the lack of people. What had happened to them? Where did they go?

 

Realizing that he had stopped awkwardly in the middle of the restaurant, the teen grimaced in embarrassment, even though no one, not even Lancelot would have known, and approached the cash register.

 

‘I wonder how much it is?’ he thought to himself as he began placing coins into the machine.

 

“Wow,” he said aloud when after only a few coins, the machine gave a small _ding_ and the front door slid open.

 

“How was it?” Lancelot asked as Suzaku exited.

 

“Really, really good,” the teen said happily, as he came up alongside the _motorrad_ _, grabbed up his overcoat and began slipping it on._

_“And…?” Lancelt prompted expectantly._

_“Well, and…” he said thoughtfully as he adjusted his collar in the shining clean window panes of the restaurant. “It was really cheap.”_

* * *

 

“Oh my,” Suzaku said as they pulled up in front of what would be their accommodations for the night. The teen could only stare at the gorgeous and clearly expensive mansion before them.

 

“Suzaku, are you sure we can afford to stay here?” Lancelot asked apprehensively.

 

Suzaku glanced nervously at the burbling stone fountain that was the center piece of the manor’s front yard before looking back at the beautiful marble building in front of them. “Well,” he said, trying his best to be objective, “according to guide book this place is supposed to be a bargain.”

 

* * *

 

All too soon another machine was silently leading them through elegant hallways filled with expensive-looking paintings, vases and other finely made furnishings. Suzaku was afraid to so much as breath in this place, for fear of being charged through the nose for damaging anything.

 

Finally their guide led them through a series of double doors that opened on the most lavish room Suzaku had ever seen in his life. He froze on the threshold, unable to take another step.

 

The room was _huge_. The floors were decorated with stunningly complex woven rugs. There were four floor-to-ceiling windows with two sets of curtains to frame the dying sunlight. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was even a small sitting area, complete with high-backed, cushioned seats around a small table. Above all there was a king-size, four-poster bed covered in lavish fabrics which somehow managed to look small in the cavernous space.

 

Oh, and the view was beautiful too.

 

“Uh, this is _our_ room?” Suzaku asked their guide hesitantly. “Are we getting some sort of traveler’s discount?” He felt a little hysterical. No matter what the guidebook said, there was no way they could afford this place. “You know,” he argued desperately with the infuriatingly silent machine, “if you try to charge me more later, I won’t be able to pay it.”

 

“Thank you, enjoy your stay,” the machine said after it had finished unloading Suzaku’s belongings on the floor. Then, without another word, the device glided out of the room, leaving the teen and his _motorrad_ _to gape at their supposed lodgings._

 

“We are _so_ in debt,” Lancelot groused.

 

* * *

 

“What are we going to do tomorrow in a country with no people?” Lancelot wondered aloud.

 

“We’ll find out in the morning, I guess,” Suzaku said as he slipped beneath the covers of the extravagant bed. At first he had been nervous about possibly ruining the fine material of the bedding by sleeping on it, but now he was too tired to care. “Mmm…” He sighed in happiness at how wonderfully soft the bed was. It was like lying on a cloud. “Sleep well.”

 

* * *

 

“Suzaku, wake up!”

 

Suzaku was up instantly, pushing himself upright even as he searched the darkness for threats. It took him a moment to remember where they were and how unlikely danger was in a country without people, especially in a hotel like this.

 

Knowing there was no threat; he felt exhaustion seep back into his bones and slumped back into the warmth of the bed.

 

“Suzaku…” the _motorrad_ _whined._

 

The teen sighed. “‘ut is ‘t?” he slurred groggily.

 

“Did you hear something? I swear I heard something,” Lancelot whispered nervously. “I think this place might be haunted.”

 

Suzaku buried his face in his pillow. He was too tired for this. “Nothin’ dere. ‘Ur imag-ning ‘ings, ‘ottie.”

 

The _motorrad_ _huffed in disagreement, but assured of their safety, Suzaku quickly fell back into the open arms of dreamland._

 

* * *

 

Nothing in particular woke him an undetermined amount of time later, but every instinct he had was screaming at him that something was wrong. He laid perfectly still, ears straining against the silence, trying to pinpoint what was leaving him on edge.

 

There.

 

Was that…breathing?

 

Suzaku’s hands tensed imperceptibly against the silky bedcovers. There was someone in the room.

 

The very first person they’d met in a land without people.

 

For some reason, the prospect was not as exciting as he had anticipated.

 

“Who’s there?” Suzaku asked, trying to strike a balance between challenging and entreating.

 

“See too,” a childlike voice whined from somewhere near the door.

 

What on earth did that mean? What was he supposed to see?

 

“I don’t– ” Suzaku began abortively.

 

The intruder interrupted his protest, “Where is she?”

 

“Listen, I’m a traveler, I don’t– ” Suzaku tried again as he slowly sat up, trying to get a clear idea of where this stranger was located.

 

“You’re silent and you came in through the gate. I saw you,” the voice interjected. “So she must have sent you. Now that the sinners have died, she can come back for me.”

 

Suzaku felt cold. Dead sinners? What did that mean? Was this person the reason why the city was empty? He strained his eyes as though catching sight of this person would solve everything, but _in the dark of the room, Suzaku could see only the outline of a tall, lithe figure enshrouded in shadows._

 

“Who? Who sent me?” Suzaku asked, gradually edging the sheets away from his legs.

 

“See too,” the childlike voice explained.

 

“No, I don’t see too,” Suzaku said. He realized then that Lancelot was being disturbingly silent during this exchange. That was never a good sign. He resisted the urge to call out for his _motorrad_ _; that instinct had gotten them into trouble more than once in their travels._

 

“You don’t?” the voice asked.

 

“No,” Suzaku said, relieved that the intruder was at least listening to reason. “I don’t.”

 

“Liar,” the voice accused, suddenly stripped of its childlike whine, leaving only ice cold intent.

 

The flash of metal in the moonlight was all the confirmation he needed.

 

In an instant he was out of bed, pulling the Conquista from beneath his pillow as he threw himself away from the intruder and away from where he’d left Lancelot before going to bed.

 

“Where are you going?” the intruder demanded sharply.

 

The sound of a motor caught him off guard. Was that Lancelot?

 

No…he knew the sound of his _motorrad’s_ _engine. This was something else._

_But even as these thoughts flashed through his mind, the intruder was moving, surging across the room with incredible speed._

_Only instinct saved him from the horrible spinning blade in the stranger’s hands. He scuttled backwards, fired off a shot, but knew it hadn’t hit._

_The intruder was gaining faster than Suzaku could back up. As spacious as the room was, it was too small for close combat and the teen had no desire to get a personal introduction to that strange weapon his attacker was wielding so wildly._

_“Where is she?” snarled the intruder, slashing at Suzaku’s stomach._

_He leapt sideways and without hesitating fired off two quick shots at his new target, before throwing himself through the nearest, now bullet marred, beautiful glass window. He rolled as he hit the ground, coming up into a fighting stance, the Conquista aimed up at the gaping black hole in the mansion._

_“Tricky, tricky,” the stranger’s voice floated downward, deceptively calm. “That’s not playing fair. Not fair at all. Die!”_

_Suzaku dodged backward as a rain of bullets showered his position._

_‘Where did he get a machine gun?’ Suzaku wondered as he worked on getting out of the weapon’s range._

_“Die, die, die!” his attacker was still screaming over the thunder of the bullets._

_The teen glanced around and realized that he was in the mansion’s spacious backyard._

_He tightened his grip on the Conquista and tried to figure out what his next move should be. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Lancelot alone with a crazed killer, but the guy had seemed far too focused on Suzaku to take much notice of a silent machine. Besides, the mansion wasn’t exactly the ideal place to have a fight._

_Since the hotel was too far out for him to make it back to the city and since there wouldn’t be anyone to help regardless of whether he made it there or not, he was left with only one option._

There was a pause in the onslaught of bullets and Suzaku took the opportunity to make his move.

 

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Hey!” he called into the night. “You’re cheating! You’re the one who’s broken the rules.”

 

“What?” the voice sounded scandalized and horribly young. “I have not!”

 

‘Who the hell is this guy?’ the teen wondered again before shouting, “And a liar as well! See too, see too!”

 

He had no idea what that ridiculous phrase meant, but it had the desired effect. His attacker let out a scream of rage and threw himself through the open window.

 

Suzaku considered shooting the man in midair, but his curiosity got the better of him. If he killed the man now, he’d never learn the truth of this land.

 

The teen darted off into the shadows of the forest, being sure to put a few large trees between the intruder and himself.

 

He heard the thrum of the spinning blade and wondered what had happened to the machine gun. He didn’t have long to ponder that mystery as his attacker was headed straight for him.

 

“Oh, hide and seek! I love this game. Come out, come out, wherever you are!” the crazed man called cheerfully. “Take me to see too, so I can kill you!”

 

“Who are you?” Suzaku asked and dodged back from a shower of sparks as the spinning blade sliced through the tree he’d been hiding behind.

 

“As if you don’t know!” his attacker accused, “she probably told you all about me. She loves her Mao, of course. And I love her.”

 

Mao. Was that his name? Suzaku wondered about the identity of this mysterious _she_ as he began strategically altering his movements to guide their progress around to the front of the hotel.

 

“What are you doing here alone, then?” he asked, readjusting his grip on the Conquista.

 

“She just had to do some work for the order!” Mao shouted petulantly, swinging his weapon even more erratically. “She promised to be right back!”

 

“And when was this, exactly?” Suzaku asked calmly, keeping his eyes on the glinting metal of that spinning blade.

 

A scream of anger was his only response and suddenly Suzaku was far more concerned with running than trying to make his attacker talk sense.

 

There wasn’t nearly enough cover in this well-manicured lawn for him to use the terrain to his advantage. The small part of his mind not currently dedicated to surviving, wished for a familiar forest that he could use to his advantage, but was quickly distracted from such thoughts by the realization that his attacker was babbling as they thundered across the grounds.

 

“…she’ll come back. Know she will. Got rid of bad ones, all gone, empty head so she’ll come back. Can’t hear them, can’t hear you, little monster. Taking see too. Give her back! Give her back!”

 

Suzaku hadn’t expected his pursuer’s sudden burst of speed and only barely avoided getting sliced in half.

 

“I don’t have her, Mao,” he said and relished the feel of pavement beneath his feet. He’d made it to the front of the hotel. He turned around to face his attacker. “Stop. Let me help you,” he pleaded more earnestly than he knew was wise.

 

But Mao was closer than he’d anticipated, the towering figure practically on top of him. Suzaku backed up until could move no further. His back hit the unyielding surface of one those picturesque trees lining the road. There was nowhere to go.

 

“Please stop!” he begged, the words spilling from his lips, even as his body moved on autopilot.

 

He had no choice. He never had a choice.

 

“See too!” the lithe figure cried, his spinning weapon held aloft.

 

It was the last thing he ever said.

 

And Suzaku held the smoking gun in his hands.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at Mao’s corpse, but when a sliver of moonlight fell across the dead man’s slack face, he knew he couldn’t stay there.

 

Suzaku walked quickly and quietly back to the hotel, the Conquista held loosely in one hand. He felt hyper aware of his surroundings, unsure what demons might be lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike out at him for killing their comrade. He almost ran the last few steps up the stairs to the mansion’s entrance. He flung open the door, almost expecting a party of concerned citizens to be waiting to try him for murder.

 

There was no one.

 

He couldn’t stand the silence.

 

He broke unto a sprint, charging through endless darkened hallways, racking his mind for the right path. He almost got lost twice, but eventually found the right room.

 

“Lancelot!” he shouted as he burst into the pitch black room.

 

“Suzaku!”

 

He ran toward the welcome sound of the _motorrad’s_ _voice and almost tripped over the motorcycle in the dark._

_“You idiot,” Lancelot said. “I told you something was wrong, and you didn’t–”_

_But Suzaku didn’t hear the admonishment. The teen simply threw himself onto the_ _motorrad_ _, tucked his arms beneath Lancelot’s headlight and clung to his only friend._

_“Suzaku…” Lancelot trailed off._

_Suzaku rested his forehead against the_ _motorrad’s_ _handlebars and shook his head slowly. “Why does this always happen, Lottie?” he asked, unable to hide the tremble in his voice._

_“I don’t know,” his normally brash companion said softly._

_“I didn’t want to,” he insisted. “I really didn’t.”_

_“I know. It’s okay, I know,” Lancelot soothed. There was no judgment in his companion’s voice. He relished in that._

“Lottie…” he whispered that childish nickname like a prayer.

 

“I’m here,” the _motorrad_ _said._

He tightened his grip on Lancelot as though he were afraid of falling off. “Don’t leave me,” he pleaded.

 

“I won’t,” Lancelot assured gently, “I’m not going anywhere; I promise.”

 

Suzaku let out a shuddering gasp at those words, but said nothing.

 

 They stayed like that for a long time, Suzaku choking back tears that may or may not have had anything to do with Mao’s death and Lancelot a silent sentinel, keeping watch over a trembling charge.

 

Finally, when his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing started to slow, Lancelot broke the stillness that hung over them with a hushed, “Suzaku. Suzaku, wake up. You can’t fall asleep like that.”

 

Suzaku’s arms tightened automatically around his friend.

 

Lancelot sighed. “Come on, Suzaku. Back to bed. You’ll regret sleeping on my back in the morning,” the _motorrad_ _admonished mildly._

It took quite a bit of gentle nagging, but Suzaku eventually got to his feet and went back to the overlarge bed. Before he got in, though, he pulled Lancelot up right beside the bed.

 

He fell asleep with one hand holding the Conquista and the other clinging to one of Lancelot’s handlebars.

 

* * *

 

As was his custom, Suzaku awoke before the sun.

 

The window he had jumped through was still shattered, leaving a gaping hole in the building to allow the occasional predawn draft to stir the stillness of the room. Although no glass littered the floor, all of it having been knocked outward by Suzaku’s fall, Mao’s machine gun still lay beside the window, abandoned.

 

The sight made him feel a little sick, so he went to the bathroom to dress for the day. He was surprised at what greeted him in the mirror.

 

His reflection was littered with cuts and bruises and his sleepwear torn and stained. He hadn’t even noticed the pain. With a sigh, the teen left the bathroom to find his first aid kit.

 

Supplies in hand, he returned to bathroom, pulled off his clothing and went about cleaning and bandaging the wounds he’d earned when he jumped through the window. The worst injuries were located on the soles of his feet. He had been too focused on surviving to notice at the time, but he’d run through shards of glass and then ran around the grounds with slivers of glass still embedded in his feet. He hadn’t noticed the pain then, but he noticed it now as he used a pair of tweezers to pull shard after shard out of his feet.

 

Eventually, all the glass he could find was piled up on the bathroom floor. The slivers were all coated in his blood. He sighed.

 

What a mess.

 

As he bandaged his feet, he decided that he would see if this country’s medical technology lived up to its mechanical prowess. He would need a stronger salve for his feet if wanted them to heal quickly and not delay their journey.

 

Suzaku gingerly got to his feet. While it hurt, he was relieved that pulling the glass out had been far more unpleasant than actually standing on his shredded feet. Where each extraction had caused a sharp, stabbing pain, standing simply elicited a dull throbbing that he could plausibly ignore all day.

 

He grabbed his soiled sleepwear and resolved to wash and attempt to mend them later. If he couldn’t salvage them, he would see about picking up some cheap replacements as they left. In the meantime he stowed his sleepwear in his luggage and pulled out his usual outfit.

 

“You can sleep in for once, you know. You did have a pretty eventful evening.” Lancelot informed him, not unkindly.

 

“There will be other eventful evenings, Lancelot,” Suzaku said without glancing in the _motorrad’s_ _direction as he got dressed._ “There’s no reason to get complacent.”

 

“Suzaku…”

 

He finished pulling his shirt on and looked out the window. He smiled when he noticed that the sun hadn’t quite begun to rise yet.

 

“It’s fine, Lancelot,” he said firmly as he retrieved his cleaning supplies. Still ignoring the _motorrad,_ he sat down in front of one of the unbroken windows and began disassembling and cleaning his guns with care and precision.

 

The _motorrad_ _sighed. “So stubborn.”_

 

* * *

 

Suzaku stood before the broken window, his feet spaced evenly and his guns holstered. His hands hung loosely at his sides. He breathed in and out slowly, steadying himself. Waiting.

 

Now.

 

Quick as lighting he drew the Conquista from its side holster and aimed. He holstered it, drew again, and holstered it once more. Next he drew the Albion from its IPSC belt holster at his back with his left hand, aimed, and holstered it. Repeat.

 

Then he repeated the entire sequence, drawing and holstering first the Conquista twice and then the Albion again and again as the sun crept up over the horizon.

 

The familiar pattern was particularly soothing after the chaos of the incident with Mao. He relished in the smooth, easy movements, though he knew the routine had nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with the need to ingrain these actions into his muscle memory so thoroughly that when the time came, even if his mind hesitated, his body wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

Suzaku finished securing his gear to Lancelot and glanced around the lavish front yard of the hotel. After the evenings’ excitement the view was no longer as impressive as it had been the day before. Now he saw only potential hiding spots for enemies.

 

“You ready?” he asked as released the kickstand and got on the motorcycle.

 

“Not counting, but your other gun…” Lancelot began; not bothering to answer what was _apparently a stupid question._

 

“The Albion,” Suzaku filled in with ease. He pulled on his goggles and adjusted his hat.

 

“Yeah, that one. Did you finish cleaning it?” the _motorrad_ _asked curiously._

 

“This morning,” Suzaku replied and turned on the ignition.

 

* * *

 

“It was a little further down the road,” the teen answered Lancelot’s unspoken question a few seconds into their drive and, slowed down to ensure they didn’t miss the sight. _The landscape looked different in the sunlight, less oppressive, less deadly, but he remembered the spot well enough._

He faltered as they approached the place and then slammed on the breaks far too quickly, causing Lancelot to squawk at him in disapproval.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered absently, staring at the spot where he’d shot Mao in the head.

 

“What’s wrong, Suzaku?” Lancelot asked, “There’s nothing here.”

 

The teen pulled off his goggles and rubbed his eyes. “That’s just it,” he said. “This is where I killed him.”

 

But there was nothing there. There was no body, there was no strange motored weapon…there wasn’t even any blood on the pavement. The ground was immaculate, like nothing had happened there at all. If it weren’t for the broken window, the abandoned machine gun and the pain in his feet, Suzaku might have believed he imagined the entire encounter.

 

It was disturbing.

 

“Well, the robots probably cleaned it up, it’s not like they know the difference, right? It would be just another mess to them,” Lancelot ventured cautiously.

 

Suzaku felt nauseous at the thought of those innocuous-seeming machines descending on Mao’s body and disposing of it like trash.

 

“Who was that guy?” Lancelot prodded, probably sensing Suzaku’s growing horror and seeking to derail it.

 

“I don’t know,” the teen answered, tearing his mind away from the gruesome mental image.

 

“You’ve got to give me a little more than that, Suzaku,” the _motorrad_ _complained._

 

“His name was Mao, I think,” he offered.

 

“You think?” Lancelot demanded incredulously.

 

“He wasn’t exactly coherent,” Suzaku muttered wryly.

 

Lancelot couldn’t argue with that. “He sounded like he was looking for someone.”

 

“He was,” the teen affirmed.

 

“Who?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

The _motorrad_ sighed in disappointment. “Right. Well, there’s one mystery we’ll never solve.”

 

“It happens,” Suzaku agreed, finding that for all the effort he’d put into the puzzle during that late night chase, he didn’t particularly mind letting this story go untold. Mao could keep his secrets. At least Suzaku was still alive, that was more than could be said for his attacker.

 

Lancelot was silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you, do you think he was that last man alive in this country?”

 

Suzaku frowned in thought. “It’s hard to say. But we’ll be touring the country today, if there’s anyone left, we’ll find them.”

 

Whether or not that meeting would be a pleasant one was another question entirely.

 

* * *

 

They found a small pharmacy tucked between two vacant office buildings, only a few minutes away from the hotel. Suzaku bought high quality salve and extra bandages for his feet from a small green robot. He wanted to go back and buy more when he learned how cheap his purchases were, but resisted the temptation. There was limited room on Lancelot’s back, after all. There was no need to overstock.

 

From there, the two went exploring, driving up and down beautiful streets, seeing the sights highlighted in the guidebook.

 

The drive was completely uneventful. The country was as barren of human life as it had seemed the day before. Looks could be misleading, though, and Suzaku was on high alert as they motored through empty streets. He would not let them get taken by surprise, not again. Still, the country was quite beautiful, if eerie in its silence.

 

“To be the only person living in this country…” Suzaku mused as they drove through an open square that must have once been filled to the brim with office workers and shoppers, going about their daily lives.

 

“Go on,” encouraged Lancelot.

 

“I wonder what it was like, for him,” the teen said quietly.

 

“Well,” Lancelot began darkly, “considering he was crazy…”

 

“Don’t say that!” Suzaku snapped. “We don’t know if he was always crazy, do we? He might have been the last person alive in this country; maybe the loneliness drove him over the edge,” he finished softly, letting Lancelot roll to a halt.

 

The _motorrad_ sighed expansively. “You’re doing it again.”

 

“Doing what?” he asked more snappishly then he intended.

 

“Trying to rationalize what happened, twisting this mess around so that it somehow ends up being your fault,” his companion informed him matter-of-factly.

 

“I’m not– ” Suzaku protested, but the words were barely out of his mouth before Lancelot interrupted him.

 

“Suzaku,” Lancelot said sternly, “that Tao person shot at you with a machine gun and chased you with a spinning metal blade of _death_. You didn’t exactly ask for that, did you?”

 

The teen scowled. “I could have, should have stopped him. There might have been another way,” he insisted, feeling the guilt well up inside of him.

 

“No. No, no, no, no, _no_. We’re not doing this. I refuse to let you blame yourself for someone else’s insanity,” Lancelot ranted.

 

“But– ” Suzaku began abortively.

 

“There’s no accounting for crazy, Suzaku. If you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed you, done who knows what to _me_ , and then he’d go on to kill other innocent travelers and their loyal _motorrads_. You don’t actually think you’re the first he’s attacked, do you?” his companion said sharply and then, after a moment, added much more gently, “You did a good thing.”

 

The teen closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Maybe, but I don’t have to like it. Do I?”

 

“No.” Lancelot agreed, “But it would probably be easier if you didn’t mind so much.”

 

Suzaku snorted and smiled ruefully. “Probably.”

 

* * *

 

After a long drive through the city, stopping only for lunch and to gaze at aging monuments and the odd architectural curiosity, Suzaku and Lancelot had yet to see a single other person. In a final attempt to find any other remaining inhabitants of this strange abandoned land, the two found their way to a lookout point far above the city. Rider and _motorrad_ surveyed the expansive city in the light of the dying sun.

 

Lancelot quickly grew bored of looking at nothing, but Suzaku took out his monocular and began scouring the distant landscape with a determined expression.

 

“Don’t you think we’re taking this a little too far?” Lancelot asked after a while. “There’s obviously been no one in the city for years. We’re probably just wasting our time, _and_ we’ll have to drive back to the hotel in the dark…”

 

“I found someone,” Suzaku said slowly, surprised.

 

“What? Where? Are they crazy too?”

 

The teen ignored his companion _._ “There are…people here?” he muttered, focusing the monocular and catching sight of a few almost shockingly _normal_ individuals out in the countryside. They were watering plants, leaning out windows to catch a breeze, reading books… “It looks like everyone is staying close to their homes. Not one person is outside of their own yard…” His eyes widened with realization. He frowned and lowered monocular. “Even more strange,” he said softly.

 

“ _More_ strange?” Lancelot repeated incredulously.

 

Suzaku glanced over his shoulder to look at the _motorrad_ _with troubled green eyes._ “Everyone is alone. Don’t these people have families?”

 

* * *

 

When they returned to their room the sun had already been down for almost an hour. The sight that greeted them on their return was not unexpected. But it was still unnerving.

 

The shattered window had been replaced and the glass shards swept away. The machine gun was gone and the bloodstains he had studiously ignored in the morning had all been meticulously erased. There was absolutely nothing about the immaculate room that gave away the fact that anything strange happened there at all.

 

To distract himself, Suzaku examined his sleepwear and decided that they really were unsalvageable. He disposed of the bloody, shredded clothing in the wastebasket and was glad that he was in such a cheap country. He could pick up a nice durable set of clothes and not have to bother with mending his ruined nightclothes. The Master may have ensured that Suzaku knew how to use a needle, but that didn’t mean the teen had _skill_. Even after years of practice he still pricked himself constantly.

 

Suzaku took a shower. The hot water burned his cuts, but he was good at ignoring the pain. When he got out he rubbed salve into his wounds and bandaged them with care. As he worked, he realized that his shoes had chafed a bit during their exploration of the city. He would need to bind his feet tighter before setting out to meet the people he had spotted the next day; he couldn’t afford an infection that might delay his journey.

 

The teen walked back into the main room and got dressed for bed in his spare shirt and pants, pausing as he finished toweling off to stare out the newly repaired window.

 

“We _are_ leaving this country tomorrow, right?” Lancelot asked from the corner of the room, pulling Suzaku from his thoughts. “You said we would stay in each country three days, no more.”

 

“Yes,” Suzaku agreed. “Three days is just enough time to get a feel for a country, besides, if we stayed any longer we wouldn’t be able to see as many places.”

 

“That’s true. Since we left the Master’s homestead, I’ve seen many countries with you Suzaku, and there’s been only the one where you wanted to stay longer,” the _motorrad_ _observed._

 

Suzaku’s hands tightened their grip on the towel and an expression of profound grief flickered across his features. “Even then,” he whispered, “we only ended up staying three days.”

 

His face smoothed into an unreadable expression and he tossed the towel aside. “I think it’s a lie,” he said, “my reasoning behind staying for only three days. I think if I stay in one place too long I get scared of getting attached, of wanting to settle down. Forging lasting bonds, making a home...it would be easy. But I break things, Lancelot. Even when I try to make a positive difference I always seem to ruin everything.”

 

He rested his forehead against the glass and looked out at the star filled sky.

 

“It’s better to be like a bird; untethered and free to view the world safely from a distance. As a stranger, a traveler, I can see all that this world has to offer, and the only one I'll be able to hurt is myself.”

 

Lancelot said nothing.

 

* * *

 

“According to the guidebook, the area just beyond the forest is called the outskirts,” Suzaku noted as Lancelot finally emerged from the light forested area between the city and the so-called ‘outskirts’.

 

The land beyond the forest was composed of rolling green hills dotted with small, widely spaced houses. As traveler and _motorrad_ _came upon the first residence,_ a man exited with a pail in one hand and a shovel in the other. _Suzaku couldn’t help but feel excited at the sight. The emptiness of the city, the incident with Mao…everything would be explained. The mystery would be solved and…_

 

The moment the man caught sight of Suzaku and Lancelot, he dropped both the pail and the shovel and ran screaming into his house, slamming the door behind him.

 

Well, so much for that.

 

Suzaku stared in confusion at the barred door. He was so distracted he almost ran Lancelot off the road.

 

“Watch where you’re going,” Lancelot complained good-naturedly.

 

“Sorry,” the teen muttered, resisting the urge to glance back over his shoulder at the quickly retreating house.

 

They drove on, hoping to find a less excitable citizen to answer their questions.

 

Their attempts were answered by screams, whimpers, shuttered windows and slammed doors.

 

“It seems they don’t much care for us around here,” noted Lancelot huffily after the fifth time. “They’re probably crazier than Tao.”

 

“Mao,” Suzaku corrected automatically.

 

“What I said,” the _motorrad_ _agreed._

 

Suzaku rolled his eyes, but let the slip go. “It is strange, though, isn’t it? What are they afraid of?” he wondered.

 

“Well, if you corner one, we can get an answer out of them,” Lancelot suggested.

 

“And how exactly do you suggest we do that?” Suzaku asked dryly. “They keep running away. I can’t _make_ them talk to me.”

 

“Well, you could…” Lancelot trailed off meaningfully.

 

“Well, I _won’t_ ,” the teen said sternly.

 

“So stubborn,” the _motorrad_ _complained without any malice._ “Fine. Here’s what we’ll do…”

 

At Lancelot’s suggestion, Suzaku turned off the engine and rolled Lancelot down the road so as not to startle the inhabitants. Finally, they came across a blonde haired woman too engrossed in fighting with a sprinkler head to notice their approach. “Come on, come on,” she was muttering to herself. “Work you stupid…”

 

Suzaku left Lancelot on the road and approached the woman slowly, trying not to startle her. When he was only a short distance from her side, he decided to risk getting her attention. “Excuse me,” he began, being careful to speak as quietly and unthreateningly as possible.

 

It failed spectacularly.

 

The woman turned at his words, caught sight of him and went deathly pale. She screamed and stumbled away from him, running around to the back of the house as fast as her feet could take her.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Suzaku said dully to her retreating back. This was not the sort of meeting he’d been worried about when he’d decided to seek out the inhabitants of this land.

 

“I told you they didn’t much care for us,” Lancelot grumbled.

 

Suzaku rolled his eyes and was about to respond when a nervous voice interrupted his planned retort.

 

“E-excuse me…” the woman called from behind the house.

 

“Yes?” Suzaku encouraged brightly, only remembering afterwards that his excitement might scare her away again.

 

“Do, do you know what I’m thinking right now?” she asked in a rush, peeking out from behind her home. “Are you reading my mind?”

 

“No, Not at all,” Suzaku answered, unsure of what to make of those bizarre questions.

 

“Me neither,” Lancelot chimed in, helpful as always.

 

“Ah, that’s good,” she said, collapsing against the side of the house with a tired sigh. “I don’t know what you’re thinking either. What a relief.”

 

Suzaku turned a baffled glance back at Lancelot, but before either of them could say anything, the woman was practically skipping back to his side. She stopped in front of him and smiled brightly. The sudden change from her horrified screams to her suddenly cheery countenance was striking.

 

When he’d first seen her, he’d noted the frown lines creasing her face and the slight hunch to her shoulders. She’d seemed so _old_ …but her sunny smile and twinkling blue eyes had transformed her lined face into a thing of beauty. She stood straighter now and that, combined with her smile, made her seem years younger.

 

“Oh, silly me,” she said, still smiling. “I’m such a horrible host. You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s been so _long_ …”

 

“It’s fine, I–” Suzaku began, but the woman wouldn’t hear a word of it.

 

“Nonsense!” she cried out loudly. “I’ve been terribly rude and I won’t hear a word to contrary. Oh, and I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Milly Ashford of the Ashford family and I would like to warmly welcome you to my home!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out in an expansive welcoming gesture.

 

“Uh, thank you,” Suzaku said, a little dumbfounded at Milly’s behavior. “My name is Suzaku; I’m a traveler,” he explained.

 

“Hey! Don’t forget me,” Lancelot whined from the road.

 

Suzaku grinned, and waved toward the complaining machine. “And this is Lancelot, _motorrad_ _extraordinaire.”_

Milly giggled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said. “Won’t you come in? I wasn’t expecting guests, obviously, but I can still whip up a cup of tea and give you a proper Ashford welcome.”

 

“That would be nice,” Suzaku said, smiling at the woman’s enthusiasm.

 

“Wonderful!” she cried and surged forward to grab hold of his hand.

 

Luckily Suzaku anticipated her movements, so he was able to stop himself from automatically treating her actions as an attack.

 

“You’re so stiff,” Milly said sternly as she pulled him toward the house. “You should relax a bit, you know. Nothing ever happens around here.”

 

“Hey, wait,” the teen protested, careful not hurt the woman as he tried to get out of her surprisingly strong grip. “I need to get Lancelot.”

 

Milly released him so abruptly that he almost fell over.

 

“Sorry about that,” she said, a little self-consciously. “I guess I was getting a little ahead of myself.”

 

“It’s fine,” Suzaku assured her, before heading back to Lancelot. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“She’s pretty excitable,” Lancelot muttered quietly as Suzaku began rolling the _motorrad_ _toward the house._

_“Be nice,” Suzaku murmured back. “You wanted answers didn’t you?”_

 

“Well, yeah, but…” Lancelot began.

 

“Oh my goodness!” Milly cried out as Suzaku and Lancelot came up beside her.

 

“Huh?” the teen said intelligently.

 

“What happened to your face?” Milly demanded.

 

“My face?” Suzaku repeated, unsure what the woman was so upset about.

 

“I didn’t notice before, but you’re all cut up. What happened?” She asked, her sparkling blue eyes suddenly shadowed with concern.

 

Suzaku remembered the incident with Mao and tried to waive away her concern. “Oh, I had a bit of a run in with a window,” he said flippantly and offered her a winning smile in the hope that she would let it go.

 

She didn’t.

 

“A window?” Milly repeated incredulously. “You’re kidding me.”

“He jumped through it.” Lancelot chirped helpfully. Suzaku discretely kicked the _motorrad_ _in the side._

 

“And why exactly would he do that?” the woman asked sharply, glancing seriously back and forth between rider and _motorrad_ _._

 

“He was being chased by a psycho with a machinegun,” Lancelot explained brightly.

 

“What?! Here?” Milly exclaimed.

 

“Yeah…” Suzaku confirmed reluctantly. He did not particularly want to talk about that horrifying experience, but he knew this would probably be their last chance to understand this country’s story, so he explained what happened. “Some guy broke into our hotel room. He was looking for someone, I think. Something about ‘seeing too’? He wasn’t very coherent. But, he got pretty upset. Hence the window thing.”

 

An odd look crossed her face. “So he’s still alive then?” she said softly, almost to herself.

 

“You knew Mao?” Suzaku asked in surprise. That would certainly make finding out what happened much easier.

 

She frowned. “Not well. No one knew either of them very well, but by the end, we’d all heard of him…” she trailed off, her eyes sad and distant.

 

“But that’s not a very pleasant topic matter, now is it?” she exclaimed suddenly, back to exuding that forcefully happy brilliance she had been broadcasting up until he’d brought up Mao. “You poor, dear, though. Through a window. And your handsome face is all scratched up, that’s no good at all, how will you attract a pretty wife like that?…ah, but don’t worry I have just the thing!”

 

“You do?” Suzaku asked, feeling a little shell-shocked by her aggressive cheerfulness. And…what was that about a wife?

 

“Mm, hmm,” she said sunnily. “Here, why don’t you bring Lancelot inside and I’ll see if I can scrounge up that old thing while the water is boiling, okay?”

 

“…Okay?” he said to empty air; she was long gone.

 

* * *

 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Suzaku managed to get Lancelot up the stairs of the porch and into the living room of Milly’s small, but elegantly furnished home. He’d only just gotten the Lancelot settled and taken a seat on an overstuffed blue couch when Milly bustled into the room holding a medium sized white container.

 

“Here you go,” she said brightly, thrusting the container into Suzaku’s hands.

 

“Um, thank you?” he said cautiously.

 

“What is it?” Lancelot asked much more bluntly.

 

“One of the good things about this country is our advanced skill in machinery and medicine. That container holds an experimental skincare ointment developed by my family. It works by…” she trailed off. “Well, the explanation probably won’t mean much to you, but it will take care of those nasty cuts. The sooner the better, though, so you’d best go put some on right now.”

 

Suzaku frowned. “I can’t accept this.”

 

“Of course you can.” She insisted.

 

“But…” the teen protested.

 

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to be like that, consider it payment for keeping me company for a bit. I haven’t talked to anyone like this in years. It’s not like I don’t have loads more, anyway.”

 

“Oh, then thank you, I guess,” Suzaku said, seeing that she wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

She beamed. “The bathroom is just around the corner there; take as long as you need. There’s no rush!”

 

So he cautiously got to his feet and followed her directions. He found the bathroom easily enough. He locked the door behind him, stripped, undid his bandages and began applying the strange odorless cream to his cuts. The cream burned when it first touched his skin, but quickly cooled and by the time he finished the last of the cuts, the first ones he had taken care of were numb. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant.

 

He rebandaged his cuts and relished the fact that the dull ache in his feet had eased considerably. He got dressed and exited the bathroom with a smile on his face.

 

“What is this stuff?” he asked as he reentered the living room.

 

Milly peered out of the kitchen and just smiled enigmatically. “Ashford family secret, I’m afraid. You’ll need to apply it once a day for a week, that should do the job and leave your perfect face as unblemished as nature intended.”

 

“I can’t keep this,” he tried again, unsure that the cream would really be that effective but also worried about taking something so obviously expensive, even as he did his best to ignore her blatant teasing.

 

“Of course you can,” She insisted with a glint in her eyes that he didn’t want to question.

 

“Right…” Suzaku said reluctantly.

 

Milly disappeared back into the kitchen with a smile. “That certainly took a while, how badly did you get cut up?” she said conversationally.

 

“It’s nothing too bad…” Suzaku began reassuringly as Milly reappeared, carrying a heavily laden tray of tea and snacks.

 

“He ran barefoot through broken glass,” Lancelot said dryly, completely derailing Suzaku’s attempts to downplay his wounds.

 

“Lancelot!” the teen hissed in annoyance.

 

“What!” Milly almost dropped the tray on the ground. “You didn’t!”

 

Suzaku was mortified at the unnecessary attention. “Look, it’s fine…” he began soothingly.

 

She looked at him incredulously. “You _better_ keep that ointment, young man. I can even bring you some more. You’re certainly going to need it if you make a habit of jumping through _windows_.” Her tone was clearly disapproving.

 

He sighed. He’d met enough women in his time to know when he was fighting a losing battle. “If it will make you happy,” he agreed, offering her his best smile.

 

“You’re damn right it will,” she said seriously. She set down the tray on the table, shooing away the robot that Suzaku only then noticed had been dogging her every step, trying vainly to help the bustling woman. “Silly little things, aren’t they?” she said conversationally as she took the seat across from Suzaku. “Sure they make life easier, but sometimes a girl just wants to do something for herself, you know?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Suzaku said honestly. He had never been waited on hand and foot by inanimate objects for longer than a few days at a time in some of the more advanced countries he’d been to. The idea was still something of a novelty to him, but he supposed it could get stifling, having everything in your life taken out of your own hands.

 

“Well, it’s true,” she said flippantly as she poured two cups of tea into fine china teacups which stood on fine china saucers.

 

Suzaku took the fragile dishware into his hands and dreaded breaking the delicate thing into a thousand pieces.

 

“Oh relax,” Milly said. “It would be a bit of a mess if you dropped it, but that’s what the machines are for. It’s not like I don’t have an entire set of these things that I never get to use. What’s the fun in breaking out the finery if no one’s there to share the occasion?”

 

She sighed, her armor of cheerfulness crumbling for a moment, leaving only a profound sense of sadness.

 

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Suzaku asked, carefully putting the too hot cup of tea back on its saucer.

 

Milly seemed to snap back into herself, her relentless happiness sliding back into place like it had never faded. Suzaku did his best not to draw attention to her slip and was thankful that Lancelot had the sense not to say anything either.

 

“No, not all,” she said. “Ask me whatever you like.”

 

“Why is it that everyone lives locked away from one another? Are they afraid?” he questioned. He knew it would probably upset her, but he needed to know the truth of this place, and he would never learn that if he allowed Milly to continue dancing around the secrets of this country.

 

Milly deflated slightly. “You could say that,” she said quietly and wrapped her arms around herself, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “You’re in…the Land of Visible Pain, my home.”

 

“The Land of, uh, what now?” Suzaku asked.

 

The despondent air around the woman evaporated once again. She smiled brightly at Suzaku and launched into her explanation. “When you were a kid, your parents taught you the whole shebang, to be considerate of others and not to hurt anyone, right?” she prompted. “See, the reason that people hurt each other is because they don’t fully realize the nature of other people’s pain. We thought…” she smiled cynically. “We thought that if we could understand one another’s pain, we could end all quarrelling and strife and create a paradise on this earth.”

 

“Who is ‘we’?” Suzaku asked skeptically.

 

“The people of this country,” Milly replied. “We advanced very quickly in machine technology, so much so that for a long time machines did all the work. As you can imagine that freed up citizens to pursue less mundane tasks…and the problem that most troubled the greatest minds of this country was the fact that despite our amazing technology…there was still strife amongst the populace. There was discrimination, hate and petty disagreements...”

 

“Isn’t that human nature, though?” Lancelot asked from behind the couch. “You guys are always fighting over _something_ , right?”

 

Milly laughed. “Yes, well, it was thought that we should be able to move beyond such trivial behavior. At the prompting of the people, our scholars used our machine technology fused with neurology to make an incredible invention. This breakthrough invention would allow us to know the thoughts of any countryman who happened to be nearby…” she trailed off and smiled sadly. “It sounded great.”

 

“…You’re kidding,” Lancelot said flatly.

 

“Wait, ‘know the thoughts’?” Suzaku asked.

 

“She means topography,” Lancelot explained.

 

Suzaku blinked. “I think you mean telepathy,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

 

“That’s what I said,” Lancelot retorted.

 

The woman’s smile lightened at their antics. “Yes, telepathy,” she affirmed. “Words have their faults, you see. Thoughts, feelings, sensations…it’s impossible to truly express such impressions with clumsy old words. Take the word ‘beautiful’, for example,” she said passionately. “No one can actually describe in words how beautiful something, anything, is with words. Be it a perfect sunset, a newly bloomed flower…or the way a sweet melody makes your heart simultaneously soar and feel and at peace…” she trailed off, her eyes once again sad and distant. “Words…fail.”

 

She was silent for a long moment, lost in some strange reverie that Suzaku was reluctant to pull her from. Then, all at once she seemed to remember that she wasn’t alone and forced out a little chuckle. “Sorry about that,” she said. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s just been so long since I’ve talked to someone like this, I’d forgotten...” she cut herself off and smiled apologetically. “Where was I?”

 

“Uh, words have problems?” Suzaku prompted.

 

“Ah, yes,” Milly said. “Well, they do, obviously. I suppose I’m a brilliant example of that. Anyway, enter the scientists. They developed miniscule machines that could be consumed in a special liquid. The machines stimulated a previously underused part of the brain, allowing for the full expression of thoughts and concepts without verbal communication. We were all sold on this amazing new invention. People all over the country drank it.”

 

“All of…you mean everyone. Even children?” Suzaku asked.

 

“It’s not so hard to imagine, is it?” Milly asked. “You wouldn’t want to be the only one who wasn’t experiencing truly meaningful communication? Nor would you want to be left out, would you? Besides, true security only comes when everyone is connected. At least, that’s what we thought.”

 

“What about the…people who didn’t belong? What about travelers and other non-citizens?” Suzaku pressed.

 

“Yes, even they joined us in embracing our bright and glorious future. You see, our country used to be very famous for its technology. People came from far and wide when they learned about the serum. Some of course came on purpose and a few stumbled upon us by chance. All but a few stayed and joined us. Off the top of my head, I think only one party was split on the matter. An older woman with a little boy, I think.”

 

“A little boy?” Suzaku repeated.

 

“Mmm…from what you said before, I suspect you met him. His name was Mao and he…” she sighed. “Well, I don’t know the full story even to this day. I was a little distracted that first day, of course, the day we drank the serum. There was this boy. We’d known each other for years and years. Went to school together and everything, but I’d never really noticed him because of the family thing.” She saw his confusion and explained. “The Ashford family name used to mean quite a lot in this country. My family’s company was one of the chief technological firms backing the serum project. We were rolling in cash and of course, I, as the only heir was expected to marry an upscale snob. That sort of thing.

 

“Anyway, I never knew it, but he’d been in love with me for a long, long time. At the party, after we drank the serum, I saw him across the room and in that one moment it was as though our hearts were instantly connected…It was like seeing him for the first time.” She smiled, but this time the expression much less forced. Her eyes were filled with fond nostalgia. “Suddenly he wasn’t that stupid little goofball I’d known all my life, but instead he was a grownup man who loved me for _me_ , not my family name or my inheritance. It was in that moment that I realized that somewhere along the line my feelings for him had become romantic without me even noticing.”

 

Suzaku frowned as he realized that Milly was clearly avoiding talking about Mao, but he decided to be patient. She obviously wanted to talk about this boy of hers. His questions could wait for this lonely woman to share her story.

 

Unaware of Suzaku’s impatience, Milly offered him another gentle smile. “You know how kids are. We were so in love; thought we were the luckiest people in the world. We wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. My family objected and threatened to disinherit me, but I didn’t care.”

 

“What was wrong with him?” Suzaku asked on cue.

 

“Oh, he wasn’t well to do enough for them. Had to actually work hard for what he had,” Milly huffed, reaching out to pick up her quickly cooling cup of tea. She took a sip before continuing her tale, “He wanted to take care of me, I of course wanted us to take care of each other…anyway, my inheritance was in limbo, but we decided to move in together anyway. True love conquers all, right?” Her smile became brittle. “I said that a lot, back then.

 

“At first everything was perfect. We were so happy and in tune with each other, completely at peace, but…he was just so insecure, you know? About money, about not being good enough. He was so worried about not deserving me, so afraid I would leave. I wasn’t any better, though. My family had always put a lot of pressure on me and because of that I was very self-conscious about myself and a little too controlling, sometimes. The more we lived together the more these things came between us.

 

“Even the smallest disagreements and differences between us became magnified as time went on. We were constantly aware of each other’s turmoil, but in the end the connection only served to increase our own insecurities…and one day I got up and left. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” She finished the story in a whisper.

 

Milly was quiet, staring down at the half-filled cup of tea clutched in her pale hands.

 

“Not long after that, everything broke down,” she said finally, still contemplating the cooling liquid in her cup. “Riots broke out across the country. The government crumbled into nothingness. The police and army tore themselves apart. It was chaos and there was nothing we could to do to stop it.

 

“We eventually realized that knowing the thoughts of others was a horrific thing. Even when you weren’t in pain, you could still _feel_ the pain of others. Everyone’s pain was visible and that was what drove us over the edge,” she said gravely.

 

“What did you do?” Suzaku asked.

 

“The only way to save our country from completely destroying itself was to live away from one another,” Milly explained. “See, the mind is like a voice in that it only caries over a certain amount of space. So we now all live well apart. To this day, I still shy from meeting anyone.” She laughed; the sound echoing coldly in her empty home. “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in a long, long time.”

 

She set the cup back in its saucer with a jarring clatter. “Thanks to the machines, we can live our lives without being bothered. We’ve developed an existence where no one relies on anyone. Course, that’s not what we had in mind,” she said cynically. “It’s funny, the thing that was supposed to bring us together, drove us apart.”

 

“It’s been a long time since any children were born here,” she said quietly, just as the sky began to fill with the orange light of sunset. “This country will probably die out and leave just the machines.”

 

“Milly,” Suzaku began, deciding to take advantage of the end of her story, to ask his question, “What happened to that little boy, Mao?”

 

The woman looked up sharply, firmly knocked out of her dark musings. She looked at him searchingly and then glanced out the window, for the first time seeming truly uncomfortable with their conversation. “That’s…not a happy story,” she said reluctantly.

 

 “I suspected as much,” Suzaku said. “But I’d like to hear it anyway.”

 

Milly bit her lip. “Well, if you insist. But, I only know bits and pieces.”

 

“That’s okay,” Suzaku assured her.

 

She sighed and said, “Let’s see…oh, I remember when he first came to the country. I was in the market with some friends when they came through the gates. I remember because they both looked so out of place, even for travelers. The woman had green hair, _green_ , if you can believe it, and she was with a little boy who actually had white hair, not to mention the strangest facial structure I’d ever seen…Anyway, I only caught a glimpse of them.

 

“If I’m remembering correctly, though, the boy was fascinated by the machines of our country and kept falling behind his sister, mother? It was hard to tell. But every time she called for him, he came running. Pretty devoted for a little kid, huh?” Milly frowned. “That woman…she was so emotionless. I could tell even from a distance. I remember, because I felt bad for that boy, having such a detached caretaker.”

 

She shook her head and offered her audience a half smile. “Anyway, that was the last I saw of them until the day we drank the serum. I don’t know why they came to this country, but I’m suspect the serum wasn’t part of the plan. I remember passing those two on the way to the big toast. They were arguing in an alley. I was a little distracted by the festivities, but the incident stuck in my mind because at the time I couldn’t imagine why anyone _wouldn’t_ want to take the serum.”

 

Suzaku sat up straighter in his seat.

 

“It was the boy who wanted to try the serum,” Milly explained. “The woman thought it was a bad idea. She was saying things about how nothing good could come of such technology and that it was almost time for them to leave this country anyway…”

 

“And then?” Suzaku prompted.

 

Milly smiled apologetically. “I don’t know. It wasn’t any of my business, so I just kept…walking.”

 

“Hind sight is twenty-twenty,” she went on. “I didn’t find out what happened until later, but that kid, Mao, he snuck in and took the serum anyway.”

 

Suzaku stared at her in disbelief. “Didn’t anyone bother to check if his guardian approved?”

 

Milly shrugged. “Why should they? Back then no one could imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to take the serum. They probably just assumed he’d gotten separated from his guardian.”

 

“What happened next?” Suzaku asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I was a bit preoccupied at the time. We all were, I think.”

 

Suzaku forced himself not to frown in disapproval. “What _do_ you know?”

 

The woman sighed. “I heard that around the time the riots started that the green haired woman had left the country, without the boy.”

 

“She just left him here?” Suzaku asked.

 

She nodded. “Yes. But it wasn’t my business, or anyone’s business, really. Not until…”

 

“Until?” Suzaku encouraged.

 

Milly shot him a resentful glare. “He went crazy, okay?”

 

“Crazy?” Lancelot muttered from behind the couch.

 

Milly slumped back in her seat, all pretense of cheerfulness completely abandoned. “Most of us were driven a little crazy by the serum, but that boy, Mao…it was worse for him. At one point, the doctors managed to sedate and examine him. His physiology was different from ours. He wasn’t…well, he _was_ human. But he had been experimented on, genetically altered, if you’re familiar with the term. The serum had a much stronger effect on him. He heard _everything_ that went through people’s minds, no matter how subconscious the thought and his range was at least three times that of the average person.

 

“As if that’s wasn’t bad enough, before he snapped, he’d become very dependent on his guardian…that was one of the only sensible things they could get out of him. When she left, he was all alone. He went mad…”

 

“You said everyone went a little nutso, didn’t you?” Lancelot said.

 

“Yeah,” Milly said, “but Mao took it to another level. He killed almost a hundred people in his desperation to make the voices stop. He even managed to kill one of the scientists that tried to help him while crippling another.”

 

“What did you do?” Suzaku asked.

 

“There wasn’t much we _could_ do,” she replied. “The country was in ruins. I think they locked him up while we struggled to find a way to salvage our country from destruction. After a while, he escaped and began roaming the city and countryside, looking for that woman and killing any citizen he came across.”

 

“It’s hard to think that such a sweet kid could become such a monster,” Milly said mournfully.

 

“Hold on,” Suzaku said, feeling deeply bothered by Milly’s tale. “You’re telling me that Mao went insane and killed countless people, and yet you continue to let him walk free?”

 

Milly looked confused. “What else were supposed to do? Anyone who got close to him was also driven mad by his broken mind.”

 

The traveler looked at her coldly. “You don’t have to get all that close to someone to put a bullet through his head.”

 

The woman was appalled. “You, you think we should have killed him?”

 

“The Mao I met wasn’t a _person_ ,” he said quietly. “He was a wild animal, a mad dog. Knowing his story and his pain, killing him would have been a mercy, but instead you let him roam free. How many travelers like me did he kill? How many of your little hideaway-homes did he trash, without the rest of you knowing another of your dwindling number had died?”

 

“Was…?” Milly stared at him with wide blue eyes.

 

“But no,” Suzaku said continued, completely ignoring her, “you all were too caught up in your own suffering and loneliness to do the right thing and put a stop to him. You abandoned your duty to a total stranger who had no idea what he’d walked into.”

 

“You killed Mao,” Milly said quietly.

 

“Yes,” Suzaku said coldly, pushing himself to his feet. “And I shouldn’t have had to. Is it so difficult to clean up your messes?”

 

“Suzaku, stop. Please,” Milly begged. She got up, but did not approach him. Suzaku was glad. He wasn’t sure what he might have done to her if she’d tried to touch him.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to clean up our mistakes. But what could I have done? What could any of us have done? We’re just normal people, trying to live out our lives. After what the serum did to us, Mao seemed like a horrible nightmare that just wouldn’t end. Can you blame us for hiding our heads in the sand?”

 

The traveler wanted to say ‘yes,’ but he knew he it wasn’t his place to pass judgment on these people, no matter how much he wished to condemn them for their actions.

 

“No,” he said finally, “I can’t. Look, I think it’s time for me to be going now.”

 

“Already?” Milly asked.

 

Suzaku nodded.

 

Milly’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, but it only lasted a moment. With obvious effort, the woman pulled on her jovial mask. “Well, then I guess I can’t convince you otherwise, now can I? Let me at least send you off with some food for your trip.”

 

Suzaku thought about protesting, but despite his feelings on the behavior of Milly and her countrymen, he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt the façade that obviously meant so much to her.

 

* * *

 

Suzaku finished attaching the small parcel of food and the container of ointment to Lancelot and turned to say goodbye to his host.

 

Milly smiled down at him from the porch. “I’m so happy I got the chance to talk with you,” she said.

 

“The pleasure was all mine; thank you very much for your warm hospitality,” the traveler said. “Take care.”

 

“Uh, wait a second!” Milly blurted out as Suzaku began to get on the Lancelot.

 

“Hmm?” Suzaku looked back as the woman rushed down the stairs to his side in sudden desperation.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to meet his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” Suzaku asked in concern.

 

“It’s just…” she hesitated.

 

She shook her head firmly and took a deep breath. “It’s just that, that boy and I, before everything went to hell, we were talking about having a baby.”

 

Suzaku had not expected that.

 

“If we’d had a son, he might be around your age by now,” she said softly.

 

“I…” Suzaku did not know how to respond to that announcement.

 

“You don’t need to say anything,” Milly assured him, “but I was wondering if I could just, hold you, for a moment? If that would be okay?”

 

Suzaku blinked in surprise and then smiled gently at Milly’s uncharacteristic nervousness. “Yeah,” he said. “That would be okay.”

 

Tentatively, as though he were made of glass, Milly reached out and enfolded him in her arms.

 

She held on for a long time, but Suzaku didn’t mind, despite how odd it felt to have another person be so close to him. He even, after a moment’s hesitation, wrapped his arms around her in return.

 

When she finally pulled away, the lapels of his coat were damp and there were tear stains on her cheeks.

 

“You know,” Suzaku said before he could stop himself, as he had countless times before to other sad faced individuals. “You don’t have to stay here. You can leave. The world is filled with people whose thoughts would be hidden from you. You could be free.”

 

Milly smiled ruefully, and the shadow of dozens of others smiled with her as she said what they all said.

 

“This is my home, Suzaku. I can’t leave.”

 

Suzaku nodded as though he understood, even though he didn’t really understand at all.

 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Milly said.

 

“You too,” Suzaku said and turned his back to her. He surreptitiously wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled on his goggles.

 

He got on Lancelot, started the engine and they took off into the distance. Suzaku didn’t look back, but he knew that Milly stood on the road watching the spot where they had disappeared over the horizon for a long time after they’d gone. He knew because she hadn’t been the first and she certainly wouldn’t be the last lonely person he’d left behind to do the exact same thing.

 

“They’re a selfish people,” Suzaku said sometime later as they sped down a lonely country road.

 

“Oh?” Lancelot said in surprise. “I thought you liked her. It’s not every day you let people hug you like that, after all.”

 

Suzaku ducked his head slightly. “I did like her,” he said. “But she was still selfish. They all are. That thing with Mao…I can’t believe they just let that go.”

 

“That seems a bit contradictory,” Lancelot said idly, “liking her but not liking her.”

 

“Not really,” Suzaku said, “because I’m selfish too.”

 

“That’s a part of being human, isn’t it?” Lancelot asked.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

 

And with that rider and _motorrad_ drove off toward the distant mountains in silence as the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon.

 

* * *

 

_The world is not beautiful; therefore it is._

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Terminology notes:
> 
> Motorrad - A two-wheeled vehicle. Only denotes that it doesn't fly.


End file.
